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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456908">every mistake in the book</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemememory/pseuds/mnemememory'>mnemememory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:08:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemememory/pseuds/mnemememory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sprinkle is probably biohazard at this point, and Yasha has taken more than a few bites to the hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(or; why is it that Beau can talk eye-to-eye with the Bright Queen of Xhorhas, but trying to comfort her friend is the hardest fucking thing in the world?)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beauregard Lionett/Yasha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>every mistake in the book</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>...</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>
  <strong>every mistake in the book</strong>
</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>“Hold still.”</p>
<p>The look that Yasha gives Beau could have broken glass. Beau ignores it with the long-ease of practice, spreading out each of Yasha’s fingers to thoroughly rub in the ointment Caduceus had given her.</p>
<p>“I…don’t know what Sprinkle has on his teeth,” Caduceus said, voice mild but eyes troubled as he imparted the jar. “We have gone quite a few places, and Sprinkle has eaten quite a few different…things.”</p>
<p>Yasha doesn’t look like she’s in pain, but she’s very good at pretending to be fine, so Beau just takes that as permission to keep being rough. She has a whole kit laid out next to her – bandages in neat rolls, Caduceus’ jar, what’s left of the antiseptic from her own personal kit and some numbing cream. Looking at Yasha’s stoic face, Beau wonders if she should have brought an ice bath as well.</p>
<p>“You did this to yourself, you know,” Beau says, unable to fully keep the amusement out of her voice.</p>
<p>Yasha scowls. “It was bothering me.”</p>
<p>“How feral Sprinkle looked?”</p>
<p>“A little,” Yasha says.</p>
<p>Beau narrows her eyes and gives a sharp tug to Yasha’s pinkie. She lets out an involuntary hiss.</p>
<p>“Fine, fine,” Yasha says. Beau doesn’t even bother not looking smug. “Jester looked so sad whenever she tried to hug him. I thought I would try something…different.”</p>
<p>“If you’re lucky, <em>maybe</em> you’ll get to keep your hands,” Beau says.</p>
<p>“I have survived worse,” Yasha says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Beau says. “I’ve seen what Jess feeds that little rat. ‘Toxic’ doesn’t even begin to cover whatever’s cooking in those gums.”</p>
<p>Yasha pulls back as Beau scrubs some more of the stinging ointment along the open wounds. Despite being made in the hot tub – or, maybe, <em>because</em> of that – they look remarkably dirty and ragged at the edges. Beau really has to put her elbow into it to get the cream into all the different bites and scratches.</p>
<p>“It is a weasel,” Yasha says. “It can’t be that bad.”</p>
<p>Beau purses her lips. “When I was a kid, there was a cat.”</p>
<p>“Like Frumpkin?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” Beau says. She’s lessened the tension in her muscles, letting the memory turn her gleeful rubbing into something a little more absent-minded. “It was pretty cute, though. Every day, I would walk along the road and see it just lying in the sun. Eventually, I got curious enough to pet it.”</p>
<p>“Where is this going?”</p>
<p>Beau switches to massaging the other hand. “Just wait. So it was cute as shit, and really fluffy and clean and stuff, so I thought it was okay. It got dark eventually, though, and I was kinda hungry, otherwise I would have just stayed and skipped out on whatever domestic horror-story had been cooked up for dinner. So I went to leave, and I must’ve jostled it or something, because it sunk its fangs into my hand and wouldn’t let go.”</p>
<p>“Beau,” Yasha sighs. “How old were you?”</p>
<p>“Not important,” Beau says. “So I was like, bleeding and shit. I walked all the way home with this fucking cat latched onto my hand. As soon as it saw dear old Dad it dropped to the ground and got the hell out of there, though, so maybe it wasn’t <em>totally</em> stupid. Anyway, I got it bandaged up and stuff, everything was fine.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t try to turn this into a life lesson,” Yasha says.</p>
<p>Beau continues to ignore her, grabbing a clean roll of bandages and starting on Yasha’s fingers.</p>
<p>“The next day, my hand was like, three times its normal size. Infection for days. We had to go to a healer for that shit. So much blood and weird-looking puss just everywhere. Smelled really funny. Awful experience. Traumatising.”</p>
<p>“Mhm,” Yasha says. She doesn’t sound very impressed.</p>
<p>“So what you should learn from this,” Beau says, ignoring Yasha’s muttered “I knew it”. “Is that you shouldn’t mess with crazy animals.”</p>
<p>“You mess with Caleb all the time,” Yasha says.</p>
<p>“He’s crazy in a different way to that cat,” Beau says. “If anything, Nott’s more likely to bite me than Caleb.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, he keeps turning into a gorilla,” Yasha says.</p>
<p>“Fine, you can say ‘I told you so’ if he turns into a giant snapping turtle and bites me unconscious,” Beau says. She finishes up Yasha’s left hand and inspects it for any holes.</p>
<p>“But only in that very specific situation,” Yasha says. She almost sounds amused, which Beau is going to take for a win.</p>
<p>“Only then,” Beau says solemnly. “Alright, other hand.”</p>
<p>Yasha obediently gives Beau her right hand. Beau flatters herself by thinking that her story had scared Yasha into compliance.</p>
<p>“It’s nice of you to do that for Jess, though,” Beau says.</p>
<p>“I can be nice,” Yasha says. Something catches in her throat, and the way it twists out of her mouth makes Beau look up sharply.</p>
<p>She tries to smile. “That’s not what I meant,” she says, only stumbling a little over the words. This is brutally unfamiliar territory. She can’t quite get past the memory of Yasha’s bruised, bloody face smiling so peacefully in the dirt. “I mean – Jester appreciates it.”</p>
<p>“She told me,” Yasha says, almost patiently.</p>
<p>Beau clears her throat. “You don’t have to do nice things for us,” she says, and then immediately regrets it.</p>
<p>Yasha pulls her hands back closer to her stomach, shoulders going up to her ears.</p>
<p>“Wait, shit,” Beau says, reaching forward and grabbing onto Yasha’s palms. “No, that came out wrong.”</p>
<p>“Then what did you mean?” Yasha says.</p>
<p>“We haven’t had a chance to talk,” Beau says. She has to lay out each word in her mind before it comes out of her mouth, building a pavement of interlocking stone from the way her sentences tessellate. “About everything.”</p>
<p>“We’ve been busy,” Yasha says. Her guard is up, eyes shadowed. Beau kind of hates the way her new face-paint is so effective at obscuring her expressions.</p>
<p>“What I meant to say is – we know. We know you didn’t want to. This isn’t – I don’t want to – <em>fuck</em>,” Beau says. She shakes her head and tries again. She’s very good at being stubborn, if nothing else. “I know you’re trying. <em>We</em> know you’re trying. I promise, we don’t think any less of you because of – that.”</p>
<p>“That,” Yasha says, voice expressionless.</p>
<p>Beau makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. So much for being a diplomat. Why is it that she can talk eye-to-eye with the Bright Queen of Xhorhas, but trying to comfort her friend is the hardest fucking thing in the world?</p>
<p>Yasha’s jaw flexes as she clenches and unclenches her teeth. “His voice is still in my head.”</p>
<p>Beau almost drops the antiseptic cream. Her eyes snap up to meet Yasha’s.</p>
<p>Her smile is such a ghastly thing – bloodless, all bone. “He’s <em>still in my head</em>. He’s still talking, telling me when to sleep, when to eat.”</p>
<p>“Yasha, he’s dead,” Beau says, reaching out to take both her hands and clutch them tightly between her fingers. “He’s worse than dead.”</p>
<p>“I wish he was,” Yasha says. Her voice is flat and emotionless. “But I’m still alive, aren’t I? He won’t die until I do.”</p>
<p>Beau grabs the first thing she can get her hands on and throws it at Yasha’s head. It’s the jar of cream, and it shatters when Yasha dodges on instinct.</p>
<p>“You’re not allowed to say that,” Beau says, teeth bared. She’s so scared. “You can’t <em>say that</em>, especially not around Jester.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Yasha says, tentatively reaching up with her bandaged hand to touch her temple. A shard of glass has rebounded and slashed across the skin, and she’s started bleeding everywhere. “I’m not stupid.”</p>
<p>Beau jerks her hand away from her face and leans up to examine it closely. “You sure say a lot of stupid things, though.”</p>
<p>Yasha shrugs.</p>
<p>“Hey, look at me.” When Yasha doesn’t comply, Beau grabs onto her chin and forces their eyes to meet. “<em>Look at me</em>. We finally got you back. Don’t think we’re going to let <em>anything</em> take you away again – not even you. Got it?”</p>
<p>Yasha’s eyes are so blank. Beau reaches up to wipe away some of the blood. Their faces are close enough that Beau can feel Yasha’s near-invisible breath against her cheek.</p>
<p>“The next time you think like that, you come to <em>me</em>,” Beau says. “Or Caduceus. Or Fjord. Fuck, literally anyone. You come to <em>us</em>. We’re your fucking family, idiot.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Yasha says. Her voice is small.</p>
<p>“Do you?” Beau says. She wants to take Yasha by the shoulders and <em>shake her</em>, until she isn’t hurting anymore, until none of this has happened, until everything is right in the world. Beau wishes she could fix everything by punching things. She’s so good at punching things.</p>
<p>Yasha closes her eyes and breaks the contact first. “It won’t happen again, Beau. I promise.”</p>
<p>“Don’t promise stupid shit,” Beau says. “It’s going to happen again. We don’t <em>care</em>. Just come to us.”</p>
<p>Yasha nods. It’s small. It’s barely there.</p>
<p>It’s better than nothing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fun fact! long-time readers will remember I had to get surgery for the exact same thing that happened to beau. RIP. </p>
<p>sorry if this is kind of a mess, I haven't posted anything in  a g e s  and this has been sitting half-finished in my WIP folder for a while. sudden inspiration hit, so here! have some whiplash angst! my treat.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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